


and when you get there better kiss me

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Bottom Richie Tozier, Dom/sub Undertones, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Edgeplay, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28714464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Richie feels like a specimen pressed under glass, Eddie looking at him through a microscope. He can’t meet Eddie’s gaze any longer, and closes his eyes; Eddie waits, patient. For all Eddie can be an impatient little bastard, he knows when to be patient for Richie.“Uh,” Richie finally says, and licks his dry lips, opening his eyes to watch Eddie watching him, “there was a porn I saw once—”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 162
Collections: Clowntown Kink Meme 2021





	and when you get there better kiss me

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [clowntown2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/clowntown2021) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Orgasm Denial, Edgeplay, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Consent, Bottom Richie Tozier  
> please keep it consensual!

_“Eddie, please,” Richie gasps out, hot all over._

_Eddie pushes deeper inside him, making him gasp. His hands tighten on Richie’s hips. “Not yet.”_

_Richie lets his head drop forward, sweat in his eyes, hair flopping. He laughs, shaky. “God, holy shit, I hate you.”_

_He can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice. “I know you do.”_

“I can’t stand shit like that.” Richie throws a loose handful of popcorn at the TV as the credits roll, missing by only about five feet.

“You gonna clean that up, jackass?” Eddie asks, sounding fondly exasperated. “This isn’t a theater, you know. This is where we live. There are no employees to sweep up after you, you pig.”

“Yeah, yeah. Babe, it’s fine. I’ll get it. I just, like,” Richie waves his butter-slicked fingers, “hate these fake communication problems. It’s so shlocky. Just like… fucking tell the other person what you want, Jesus.”

They’re a few glasses of wine into the evening, it’s getting late, and Eddie’s always been made more direct by drinking. “Oh yeah? What do _you_ want, Richie?” he asks, tone a little playful. When Richie glances at him, he’s got a brow arched, a dimple threatening to break through. Uh oh.

_“Tell me how it feels,” Eddie murmurs._

_“Fuck, Eddie, it feels so good, Jesus— I can’t—” Richie can hear how he’s slurring._

_“Yeah, you want more? You want to come on my cock?” Richie wishes he could look at Eddie right now—he's gorgeous, and that's the only thing missing—but on the other hand, if he could, he'd probably be unable to stop himself from jizzing, and—_

“What do I want? Uh, a private beach in Sardinia and a lifetime supply of Lucky Charms?” Richie says with a shrug. “Like… what are you looking for, Eds?”

It was a mistake to ask that, Richie realizes as Eddie puts a hot-palmed hand on his thigh. Or not a mistake, really, but—

With a wave of his hand, Eddie clarifies impatiently, “Like… in bed,” just as Richie was afraid of and hoped for.

“What do I want in bed?” Richie tries stalling for time, pulse ticking up. “Breakfast?”

“Lame, Tozier,” Eddie says. “Answer the question. You know what I’m asking.”

Richie adjusts his glasses and rubs the back of his neck, remembering at the last second that he’d just been eating and throwing popcorn with that same hand. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “Stuff.”

Eddie scoffs. “Rich, c’mon. I asked you a question. I want to know. C’mon, you just said you thought it was schlocky when people in movies didn’t communicate.” Eddie’s strong, small hand squeezes his thigh.

Richie sighs. “You bossy little shit.”

Eddie’s moving from sitting next to him to straddling him on the couch, dark eyes gleaming. Richie can barely scramble in time to move the popcorn. “Oh yeah, I’m bossy?” Eddie’s face is close to his, and Richie can’t stop himself from tilting his chin up like he’s going to be kissed, like he’s waiting for it, and Eddie sees it and smiles, and doesn’t move to kiss him, and Richie feels his cheeks getting hot. “Is that it? You like me being bossy?”

“I mean,” Richie starts, and suddenly Eddie’s hand is cupping him through his jeans, firm, and his smile widens into a grin now that he knows Richie’s getting hard. He clears his throat, and swallows. “I mean, you know, it’s fine,” he concludes, unable to keep himself from shifting his hips a little, seeking the friction of Eddie’s hot palm. 

“Yeah?” Eddie’s pressing him, rubbing just slightly, not nearly enough. “That what you like? What you want? More of that?” He leans in and Richie thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he kisses instead along Richie’s jaw and then to his neck, and Richie finally lets his head tip back against the catch with a little moan he can’t stop. Eddie closes his teeth on his neck under his ear, just lightly, just briefly, but Richie’s hips jerk up and Eddie presses down harder for a moment, not long enough. “Tell me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Richie says, breathless, aware he’s babbling. “I, I’d be fine with that, yeah, I like it, I like, uh, I like you bossy, I like it when you’re bossy.” 

“You do, huh? I thought maybe you did.” Mercifully, Eddie moves his hand, and sits back. Yet Richie’s disappointed. “Sweetheart. What do you want that maybe we don’t do? Tell me what you want more of, what you’ve thought about, and I’ll do it, Rich.”

Richie swallows hard. “I, uh,” he starts, and Eddie hums in encouragement. Richie knows that once Eddie’s seized on something, he won’t let it go. He closes his eyes tightly for a moment. “I like it when you, uh, fuck me,” he says, and lets out a breath. 

Something lights up in Eddie’s dark eyes. “Yeah?” he murmurs. “You want more of that?”

“Fuck. Jesus, Eddie. Yes, yes I do,” Richie’s mouth is dry; he swallows again. He loves fucking Eddie, but something about Eddie fucking him makes him go all hot and shivery, raw and exposed. 

_”I can practically feel you in my throat, Eddie, God, please.” Richie knows he sounds wrecked._

_“Wait, Rich. Wait,” Eddie says, closing his teeth on Richie’s skin, a sharp twinge of pain that makes his cock jerk. Richie thinks about Eddie leaving marks on him; he shudders and groans. Eddie must see him involuntarily flexing his fingers on the headboard. “Keep your hands there,” he tells him. He moves one hand from Richie’s hips, rubbing his nipples and making Richie cry out before he wraps an arm around his sweat-slick chest. “Don’t move,” he says. And Richie’s going to try not to move, he really is._

“I can do more of that for you,” Eddie murmurs. “Yeah, I love that. What else?”

Richie blinks at him, feels his mouth drop open. He feels like a specimen pressed under glass, Eddie looking at him through a microscope. He can’t meet Eddie’s gaze any longer, and closes his eyes; Eddie waits, patient. For all Eddie can be an impatient little bastard, he knows when to be patient for Richie.

“Uh,” Richie finally says, and licks his dry lips, opening his eyes to watch Eddie watching him, “there was a porn I saw once—”

_Eddie cups Richie’s balls with his other hand, making him gasp, and then he wraps it around Richie’s painfully hard dick and squeezes; Richie shudders hard all over, with a groan he can’t moderate, and before Richie can fully register the touches he’s been going crazy for, dying for, Eddie stops squeezing. “Not yet, Rich,” he scolds._

_“God, Eddie.”_

Eddie chuckles softly. “Oh yeah, the Trashmouth watches porn?”

“—where one guy wouldn’t let the other guy come until he wanted him to,” Richie continues, and the smirk drops from Eddie’s face. He’s turning a little bit pink, actually.

_Eddie strokes him, and Richie thinks finally, finally, his hips rolling up into Eddie’s grip and down onto his cock. But Eddie’s hold is too loose and he’s going just a little too slowly, and Richie groans in frustration. “I know, I know,” Eddie murmurs, almost like he’s soothing him. But he still won’t tighten his grip._

“Yeah?”

“The one guy would get him close and then stop.”

_A couple more rounds of Eddie squeezing him and then pausing to loosely stroke him, and Richie’s sure he’s losing his mind._

_“You can come after I come, okay? Fuck, I’m close—”_

_Richie fucks himself on Eddie’s cock, bouncing on his dick like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and maybe it will be, maybe this will kill him, because Eddie’s squeezing his dick again and Richie’s fucking into his grip and then Eddie stops—_

“The other guy was like… begging him.”

_Then he starts again and— “I fucking swear to God, Eddie, please— I can’t—” Eddie's stroking him firm and fast and he's so close but he can't come yet—_

_“Yeah you can, sweetheart— Fuck, so close—”_

_Richie groans._

“I dunno, I just….” Trailing off, Richie licks his lips again. “I nutted harder watching that than anything else I can remember. I think I almost passed out.”

_Eddie's fucking him faster now, his hand moving faster. Richie whimpers and doesn't think Eddie even notices. “So fucking good, Rich, so fucking good— I’m gonna— fuck, Richie—”_

Eddie sits back, steam practically rising from the top of his head as he’s clearly putting a plan together. 

“Richie,” he finally says, “go to the bedroom, take everything off, and kneel at the head of the bed, facing the headboard.”

Richie blinks at him.

_And then he stops, deep. “Holy fuck, Rich,” Eddie gasps out, arm tightening over Richie’s heaving chest—_

“I mean… okay,” Richie says. Eddie gets up off his lap.

_Feeling how Eddie stops deep inside him, feeling him come, hearing him gasp, Richie moans, and tilts his head back. “Eddie, please,” he says again, outright begging now, shameless, trying to thrust into Eddie’s hand, which has stopped stroking him. Richie’s hands are trembling, his palms sweaty on the headboard._

_“You were so good, Rich, you were so good, sweetheart,” Eddie gasps._

_“Eddie,” he pleads, and Eddie’s fingers tighten around him. Richie moans as he starts up again._

“I’m right behind you,” Eddie calls from the living room as Richie, heart pounding, shucks off his jeans, pulls his shirt off with fumbling hands, takes his socks and boxers off with trembling fingers. He’s well on his way to being fully hard.

At a noise, he turns and sees Eddie in the doorway, leaning on the door jamb, watching him with those intense dark eyes Richie has always loved. Eddie folds his arms. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot, you know that?” Eddie says, sounding almost annoyed with him. Before Richie can come up with anything he can possibly reply to that with, Eddie adds, “Get on the bed. On your knees, facing the headboard.”

_”You can come now, Rich, come for me,” Eddie murmurs against his skin._

_It only takes a few strokes before he’s coming, over Eddie’s fingers, over his own stomach, even on the headboard. It feels like a lot, and it is._

_“Holy fuck,” he practically sobs. “Eddie.”_

Eddie walks up next to him, standing next to the bed, to the nightstand, and opens the drawer to get out the lube. Tossing it on the bed, he goes to unzip himself. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, unexpectedly.

“For what?” Richie asks, distracted by watching Eddie getting out of his pants, and then taking off his shirt. Eddie is stunning.

“For trusting me with this.”

Richie swallows. “Yeah. I mean….” He trails off, unsure what to add, if he can even put any of it into words, if he ever will be able to.

_Eddie pulls him back by his hair at just the right angle to turn him enough for Eddie to kiss him, hot and openmouthed. Richie can only pant, boneless and useless. He can feel Eddie softening gradually inside him; he feels messy, blurry, claimed. Eddie more or less holds him up as he kisses him._

_“Fuck, this is killing my knees,” Eddie whispers suddenly, and when Richie’s brain catches up with that he fucking laughs until he cries, feeling Eddie’s huffs of laughter against his skin until he shifts forward as Eddie pulls out and directs him to lie down. The next thing he knows, Eddie’s wiping him down with a wet cloth, and then wrapping his arms around him._

The two of them found out that Richie, unlike with his past random one-night-stand hookups, really likes getting fingered open, and what Eddie likes about it is how vocal he is, how responsive. Richie felt like his soul was being turned inside out the first time Eddie really started working him open, and every time since he’s amazed by what a revelation it is that what was once a cursory necessity is now a chance for Eddie to lovingly torment him. There have been times he’s been tempted to just have Eddie fuck him with his fingers, but so far they’ve never stopped at that, usually because neither of them can resist Eddie fucking him. Still, though, when Richie’s on tour without Eddie around and he’s fingering himself in the shower, that’s what he thinks about.

Almost all too soon, Eddie’s replacing his fingers with his cock, and Richie closes his eyes tightly, biting his lip. His fingers flex painfully on the headboard; his cock bobs, straining for touch. “Fuck,” he jokes, “I’m regretting this already.”

“Shut up, no you’re not,” Eddie says, voice strained as he pushes all the way in. “Don’t touch yourself,” he adds, stern. “That’s for me. You’re mine, Rich.”

“Yeah, I am,” Richie sighs, his heart pounding now in anticipation. Yeah, he’s Eddie’s, all right. Mind, soul, and body. "Come on, babe. Show me."

_“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” Eddie tells him, voice muffled against Richie’s skin, arms tight around him._

_“Tell me again,” Richie says, half joking, half pleading._

“There we go,” Eddie sighs, pressing his hips home. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Rich, you’re perfect.”

“If you say so,” Richie says, breathless.

“I do,” Eddie says, kissing his shoulder with a wet smack. “You’re perfect, and you’re mine.”

_“You’re perfect, and you’re mine,” Eddie tells him, and something in Richie breaks, never to be like it was again._

_“I’m yours,” he whispers._

“Be good for me, Rich,” Eddie says, deep inside him, but not moving yet. His hands frame Richie’s hips; he feels like he’s being held like a precious object.

“Anything,” Richie says, and means it. Hell, if Eddie told him he was going to fuck him and _not_ let him come, he’d let him. And there’s an idea… but being totally denied isn’t really what he wants, and he doesn’t think Eddie really wants that for him, either. Not right now, anyway. 

“Love you,” Eddie murmurs.

“Love you too, Eds,” Richie says, and then Eddie draws almost all the way out, and then starts to thrust into him.

_”You okay if we just nap now?” Eddie asks, a (clean) hand combing through Richie’s curls in a way that threatens to make him doze off whether he wants to or not. But he does want to._

_“I’d love that,” Richie tells him._

_Eddie kisses him, a gentle touch of lips. “See you when you wake up.”_

_“Yeah,” Richie whispers. “Thank you,” he adds, much more softly, and closes his eyes._

Eddie can be a tireless little powerhouse when he wants to be, and he’s nailing Richie like it’s his job. In short order, Richie isn’t sure how he’s going to stand not being allowed to jerk himself off, or knowing that Eddie isn’t going to get a hand on his dick until he’s good and ready. 

At the same time, he’s probably harder than he’s ever been. 

God, he loves Eddie; there’s no one else he could imagine doing this with, who’d be willing to do this for him. A minor thing, maybe, but Eddie knows what it means that he managed to extract a desire from Richie, when Richie’s spent his life throwing flash grenades to distract as he ran off to somewhere safe and familiar. Eddie knows what it means to be handed the controls and to be allowed to call the shots. 

Richie knows that soon he’ll be driven to desperation; he knows he’ll ask, and be denied, plead, and be denied, beg, and be denied—and he knows that Eddie will eventually _give_ , that Eddie knows what it means for Richie to accept it.

Soon enough, the words will be punched out of him, like he has no choice but to beg for his pleasure from the one person he ever really wanted to receive it from.

“So good,” Eddie whispers, hands tightly framing his hips and pulling Richie back and down onto his cock as he thrusts; then the words come.

“Eddie, please.”


End file.
